Ladies and gentlemen!
It's a clash of the chap hop titans. tonight, in this corner, the world's greatest chap, master of the 'tache, lord of the tweed, brandishing the renowned banjolele, mr. b!
And in this corner, the king of steampunk, the cocky dynamo, britain's greatest eccentric , weighing in at 6 fluid ounces, professor elemental!
Alright there gents i want a clean fight, no 'tache tugging, no hat thievery and no prodding. seconds out, fight!
Elemental:
I've taken you down in front of a rabble of doubters and replaced my old slacks with some victory trousers. i represent intense invention, indelible and evident and all you represent is being sensible and hesitant
Mr. b:
I'm reticent to answer, when you try to win a chord. i'm neither sensible nor hesitant, just frightfully bored. you try to call me out with your chirpy lack of clarity, just to piggyback upon my popularity
Elemental:
And just exactly what is a chap? a 'tache and a wax jacket and you think you're all that? in fact you're a relic of a bygone age, i'm an old school futurist piloting a science fiction powered plane
Mr. b:
You know not what a chap is yet you wish to find the best. on you i whiff a foul stench of fancy dress. your claim to be a chap at all is what really shocks, no shirt, half a beard and a dress-up box. you shadow box, as it's my shadow you chase, you're about as half-cocked as the ruddy shrubbery on your face. a chap is a gentleman, which you have proved you're not, so your move to talk rot upon a proper chap's spot
Elemental:
What?!
Mr. b:
Your arguments are weak sir and you don't look so well, you're less futurist pilot, more don estelle
Elemental:
Don estelle? rot in hell! i'm windsor davies taking down pretenders and whinging plagiarists, facing a pugilist. i'm not well 'cause i'm that ill. my dress is secondary to my unparalleled rap skills. and my imagination that avoids covers and copies, covering "i like to move it move it." sloppy sir, sloppy. rap heads have got my back, so have the steampunks and the nerdy kids. who's got yours, the young conservatives?
Mr. b:
Call me tory boy, to differ i beg. if i'm the prime minister then you're rap's nick clegg. clutching at my coattails, desperate for power, my victory shall be chap hop's finest hour. of both of our names yours is spread the localist. i am chap hop, you're just a vocalist
Elemental:
Right! that's it! that's it! bring me a beat! bring me a beat thomas and i will bring him down to ipswich town!
*instrumental*
*rapping over each other*
Elemental:
Oh so sorry
Mr. b:
After you, after you
Elemental:
Oh really? no you're too kind i couldn't possibly
Mr. b:
No, no, please, please
Elemental:
Alright. anything you can flow i can rock better, i can rock anything fresher than you
Mr. b:
No you can't!
Elemental:
Yes i can!
Mr. b:
No you can't!
Elemental:
Yes i can!
Mr. b:
No you can't!
Elemental: mr. b:
Yes i bloody well can! i thought right, take this you cad!
I made myself rather clear on that-
*sick banjolee riff*
Elemental:
That's not bad actually. go daddy-o go!
That's sick, i'm impressed, that last bit was quite fresh. i give a little respect, it's nice, quite the best. perhaps i wish sometimes that i was as polished in act, or could grow the same 'tache if i'm honest
Mr. b:
But then you choose bits most amusing and random, your youtube hits expanding your fandom. like you say both our lives are rather splendid and if i had my way this tiff would be ended
Elemental:
I admit i am handsome on screens and computers, but who came straight out of surrey like a hiphop commuter and communicated the essence of chap
Mr. b:
I suppose i did
Elemental:
Can a man so well dressed be as bad as all that?
Mr. b:
Of course he could not, i wish people would learn, i am p. g. wodehouse to your jules verne. i may dress like a prince but i can act like an arse and they couldn't make a chopper out of brass so to speak
Elemental:
I don't think you're listening clearly, i'm too weird, i'm merely rap's timothy leary. i'm shabby, unhinged, my dear boy it just fits, that you'd be people's choice on radio 6
Mr. b:
You're too kind, i do find that i'm overexcited by our tiff, if i had my way we both would be knighted. the queen would place sirs in front of our names, because she doesn't hate the players she just hates the game. so we!
Elemental:
Quite like this tweed sir
Mr. b:
Will!
Elemental:
For the team you'd better get ready
Mr. b:
Be!
Elemental:
We both strike the loudest
Mr. b:
Polite!
Elemental:
So i'll put on my nicest trousers
Anything i can flow you can rock fresher, you can rock anything better than me
Mr. b:
No i can't
Elemental:
Yes you can
Mr. b:
No i can't
Elemental:
Yes you can
Mr. b:
No i can't
Elemental:
Yes you can, oh for god's sake
Mr. b:
Crikey, are you bored?
Elemental:
I am- to be honest i'm exhausted
Mr. b:
I mean how long has this been going on?
Elemental:
It feels like hundreds of years. should we go and get a cup of tea or something?
Mr. b:
Absolutely, i've got a great sherry out the back actually
Elemental:
Oh really! i've got some opium in my back pocket, shall we?
Mr. b:
Really! how wonderful, oh why not, yes
Oh wasn't handsome punch up? wasn't it a darling fight? wishing we that could have a bundle like it every other night...